


It Could Be Anyone

by EyeofMazikeen



Category: Sherlock (TV), X-Men (Movies), X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Cherik - Freeform, Dirty Talk, Edgeplay, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Sass, mormor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-24
Updated: 2014-08-24
Packaged: 2018-02-14 13:15:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2193189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EyeofMazikeen/pseuds/EyeofMazikeen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A mostly porny, somewhat cracky Mormory /Cheriky clusterfuck that's all TaylorPotato's fault.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Could Be Anyone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [taylorpotato](https://archiveofourown.org/users/taylorpotato/gifts).



> This is all TaylorPotato’s fault. We were talking about Fassy Magneto and fassy Moran and they thought it would be funny if they were the actually the same person. And still getting fucked by Charles, even as Moran. I honestly don’t remember the original concept because it basically devolved into a thinly veiled excuse to write edgeplay porn. That’s Taylor’s fault too.
> 
> It seems like there should be an ‘almost dub/non-con’ type warning given the nature of.. uh... things but trust me, that all gets sorted out at the end. As it is, though, if you’re generally squicked by mind control you might wanna give this one a pass.
> 
> Also, this story should be way crackier than it is, though it’s pretty cracky already. As it is it’s mostly edgeplay with a bit of dirty talk and sass. There’s no plot, and nothing really makes sense. Consider yourselves warned.

 

Life as Sebastian Moran, Erik had concluded back in the late 70s, wasn’t so bad. It was in fact, at least at points, downright enjoyable... even for a former mutant terrorist. Well, former terrorist, anyway. Despite the fact that his powers weren’t seeing too much use in his previously preferred method (mostly via massive displays of force), he was still a mutant. And magnetic manipulation certainly had its perks when it came to assassination.

It turned out being a dead shot was second nature to him. Go figure.

The work itself wasn’t that bad either. And not, as Erik initially thought, entirely pointless. It ended up being a rather decent way to pass the time and make money while he laid low after the debacle that was DC. And in truth, it hadn’t taken much effort on his part to get his current employer’s values more in line with his own. Sure, it wasn’t changing the world in a flashy, showy way. But with the support of his boss and the massive network at the man’s disposal, well. It wasn’t exactly sitting on his haunches either.

Even the metal plating running along the entire back of his scalp was well worth the nasty scarring he incurred as part of the cost. Still, it was hard to put a price on not having Charles’ invasive presence in his mind. Being liberated from the actuality and the looming threat of it was, in all respects, quite freeing.

And it wasn’t as if he could properly scope a target, let alone get a cup of coffee, with that fucking helmet on anyway.

Then there was the sex. That was certainly a perk. One might even go so far as to call it a bonus. M, Moriarty, Jim, James, Richard... _whatever_ the little Irish nutter had taken to calling himself for the week... was absolutely insatiable.

It wasn’t just the frequency that made it so immensely enjoyable. The mad little shite was not only extraordinarily adventurous, but seemed to have an uncanny knack for knowing exactly what Erik preferred. He hadn’t really entertained the notion of having a partner after Charles; after all who could compare to someone that knew every level of his psyche, every one of his deepest, unverbalized desires, and simply took action?

Whatever their (decidedly un-mutant) source, Jim’s ferocious intelligence and keen deductive skills lent him an eerily similar approach to Charles when it came to tapping into Erik’s, now Sebastian’s, innate desires.

The chemistry between them was perfect, even early on. Hell, from the first moment that Moriarty actually pushed him up against a wall and started working those quick, clever hands of his at his belt, they’d fallen perfectly in sync.

“Well, are you going to do any of the work to drop trou or am I going to have to rid you of that hideous outfit of yours?” It was the only thing the smaller man managed to say before all but violently stripping him and descending on Erik’s cock, deep throating him with an enthusiasm and fervor that had only previously been matched by Charles, and even then exclusively in the heat of their most fervent arguments.

Sex with Jim was like revenge fucking someone three to four times a week without actually having to have any of the tedious moral debates and self righteous posturing in the before and after spaces.

But that’s what it was. Constant rounds of angry sex. They always fucked like they were furious with each other, despite having very little reason to be so. Moriarty’s temper was like lightning; quick to strike, brilliant in the moment, violent for the duration, and absolutely vanished into thin air once burnt out. Jim’s fits of ravenous sexuality struck seemingly out of nowhere, and dissipated just as quickly once his need for a bit of rough was satisfied.

Erik found himself hard pressed to think of a more perfect arrangement.

After a few months being his live in bodyguard and sometime assassin, his boss’s appetites weren't nearly as surprising as it was that first time Jim descended on him in a fit of sexual pique. Still, it was breathtaking when the pernicious little Irish fuck decided to turn his attentions ‘Sebastian’s’ way.

It certainly didn’t help that Jim sucked his cock like it was what he was fucking made for; like all the other gifts he had - intelligence, wit, ruthlessness, amorality - were simply after effects of the perfect way he molded his mouth and throat to Erik’s length. And those hands, so seemingly small and somewhat delicate, were deceptively strong when pinning Erik’s hips to the drywall in their spacious London flat.

And oh, he was the perfect amount of tease. Like he’d sussed out Erik’s propensity for edgeplay the same way he could deduce a man’s profession by the size of his shoes and wear of the soles, or whatever seemingly absurd string of logic he used to make his too-personal and (usually, at least) highly unwelcome assessments.

From that first possessive growl of “Mine” to the first time those pale fingers dug into the flesh of his hips, Erik knew he was absolutely fucked. Not to mention the exquisite way that Jim punctuated his possessive intent by using the lightest of licks and brushes of lips along the sensitive ridge just below the head of his cock. The way that he knew precisely how hard and how long to suck, and when to back off and pin Erik’s hips until he was helplessly thrusting into empty air, his prick jutting towards Jim and his merciless little smirk. And the way Jim had absolutely no compunctions about repeating himself, all the while peppering Erik’s swollen cock with little teasing licks until he was a shuddering, moaning wreck?

Yeah. Charles and his pretentiousness could fuck themselves into oblivion for all he cared. Erik had Moriarty, and that was more than enough to keep him occupied in every sense of the word.

That very first time Jim struck Erik was too breathless and spun and sex drunk to even formulate a proper protest, but it didn’t seem to matter to Jim. All the little bastard had to do was tongue at his weeping slit and growl “I hate you too, _Sebastian_ ” before positively gagging himself on Erik’s length to have the man coming down his throat, his body fully wracked to the point of spasming by the force of his orgasm.

Yeah. He was utterly and completely fucked, from that first time Moriarty wiped the back of his mouth on his hand, then the back of his hand on the outside of Erik’s trousers. The way he just looked up at him with those dazzling black eyes of his and gave a conceited, triumphant little grin was enough to send a flash of heat coiling low in his abdomen again, despite having just finished mere seconds before.

“I’ve always preferred you in something dark and form fitting anyway.”

The rush of deja vu was almost enough to knock Erik out of the warm contentedness of his post-orgasm haze. It wasn’t until Jim rolled his eyes and muttered something about wetworks gear before stalking off to the bathroom that he realized the bastard hadn’t deduced anything about his past.

Erik’s cover as Sebastian was still intact, though all of his personal space, some of his pride, and his cock all seemed to be forfeit.

The only oddity in the entire scenario, other than the intensity of their first encounter was how Jim always went to sleep immediately afterwards. Skinny little prick never ate enough anyway; and the fervor with which he absolutely attacked Erik was probably cause enough to cause no small amount of exhaustion.

It wasn’t at all troublesome that it became somewhat of a habit, Jim’s bouts of post-sexual exhaustion. They’d fuck like rutting animals; all teeth and sweat and terrible desperation. Then Jim’d say something pithy, stalk off, pass out for a few hours, and act like nothing happened when he woke up. Hell, he usually acted completely and utterly disinterested until the next time his libido hit, then he’d go from nothing to causing dents in the walls, rugburn, and bruises, and mind blowing orgasms before sleeping it off again.

In fact, it became a rather delicious, if a bit predictable, cycle. Indifference. Passion. Exhaustion.

Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

And besides, when counted among Jim’s other odd habits, it didn’t seem to merit much consideration. The little prick was always moving from one project to another with lightning speed and a relatively short attention span. And despite the fervor with which he threw himself at, or rather _onto_ , Erik’s cock he didn’t really seem to be exempt from the inevitable disinterest that would follow.

It wasn’t until they’d been regularly fucking for a few months, and Jim started quizzing him on his exes, that things started to seem slightly suspect. Not that the suspicion had lasted long. Oh no. Jim had handled him too skillfully for him to really put everything together until the very, very end.

_**That**_ was a memorable fuck. And not just because it changed _everything_.

Jim had caught him passed out in bed, the little prick. And despite Erik’s tendency towards light sleeping, Moriarty had managed to tie him down quite securely without waking him.

It was almost supernatural, the quietness with which the little bugger could move.

Despite the fact that Jim had quite the collection of handcuffs and other bondage gear, he always preferred rope when it came to restraining ‘his Sebastian’. It was inconvenient in terms of Erik’s powers, but not entirely unwelcome. There was something to be said for not being able to accidentally tear a pair of police issue handcuffs apart in a moment of sheer sexual frustration. Not having to explain _that_ was certainly a bonus.

Plus, it wasn’t exactly as if he was actually helpless. If Jim ever did decide to hurt him all he’d have to do would be to yank a few of the man’s fillings out to stop him dead in his tracks. But the _idea_ of helplessness was, in a certain way, appealing. Almost like being around Charles with his mind unguarded. There was a degree of trust (and vulnerability) there that, despite the fact that it was as ill advised with Jim as it ever had been with Xavier, quite arousing.

In fact a few turns of his wrists in the perfectly tight black coils was all it took for Erik’s cock to start stirring. Jim’s encouraging fingers certainly didn’t hurt, either, or the way that the still-dressed bastard straddled his legs, the wool of his suit brushing tantalizingly against the bare skin of Sebastian’s thighs.

“Now Sebastian,” he had purred, Irish lilt out in full force, sounding almost hilariously forced despite the sheer lust burning in his eyes. The heavy drawl was a sometime side effect of his wilder moods, which included Jim’s sexual mania. “Why don’t you tell your sweet, loving boss all about the bad, bad man that broke your heart.”

“Why don’t you fuck off and read it in my file or something. Or deduce it, you little shit.” That earned him a stinging slap across the face. Backhanded, hard enough for Erik to taste his own blood. He grinned back in Jim’s face after the blow, that big toothy grin that Jim seemed to both love and hate. It wasn’t an answer, certainly, but the last thing he wanted to do was discuss Charles while Jim was toying with his cock. But the coax of those lithe fingers in combination with the coppery taste of his own blood proved too much of a temptation for Erik to fight. God damn if the little bastard didn’t know exactly what to do to get him hard in record time.

“Ngh. Why?” It was a risky move, pushing for a delay, but risk was always part of their games. Jim caught on immediately and gave him an almost matronly ‘tsk’ before curling his hand into a tight fist, pumping his wrist at a deliciously fast pace for a few blissful seconds before stopping his movements and releasing his hand with a small, disappointed shrug.

The second Jim removed his hand Erik let out a little frustrated growl; one half protest, one half enticement. Moriarty answered with a slow roll of his hips, enough to press the delicious curve of his ass against the tops of Erik’s thighs in a way that had him positively aching to be buried in the tight, hot little hole hidden within the nice, rounded curves of Jim’s tightly-suited buttocks.

That simply earned him a disapproving tap on the lips before Jim’s had traveled back down, his fingertips tracing languid, teasing lines up and down the underside of Erik’s rapidly thickening length.

“Now now, Sebby. I’m showing an interest. Isn’t that was partners do?” The lit was out in full force still, all saccharine and dripping sarcasm in a way that sent jolts of sensation shooting straight through the tangle of lust and frustration knotted up just below Erik’s navel. It gathered all the threads together and yanked them taut, and Erik could feel his cock twitching in equal amounts excitement and frustration.

“Hell of a time to show an interest in anything other than my fucking prick.” Erik punctuated his own sarcastic quip with a frustrated tug on his roped off wrists. “What’re you going to do, fuck the answer out of me?”

“Don’t make me break out the cock ring, handsome. I thought I was providing ample motivation for you to share. It’s considered nice to _ask_ , isn’t it?” That was chillingly reminiscent of a few arguments he’d had with Charles, regarding asking versus simply ‘reading’ something about him. It was enough to knock the fight out of him, and Erik stared up into Jim’s dark eyes with a resigned sigh.

“Fine. What do you want to know?”

“That’s better. See. I knew we could get along if you just put some _effort_ into it. Now. Tell me.” Jim’s hand returned to his cock, his grip a fraction tighter than it was before, and started to move. Erik’s hips canted involuntarily into that teasing touch, but all Jim did was smile an inscrutable little smile down at him and chuckle softly.

“Care to provide me with some nngh--” Erik’s question came to a strangled end, choked out of him by the startlement of Jim’s thin fingers forming a too-tight ring around the base of his cock. Blue eyes wide, he stared up at his boss and gave a desperate little nod.

Yeah. Point taken.

It certainly didn’t help matters that when Jim released him, his cock visibly twitched in anticipation of the next round of teasing.

“I don’t know. The basics, I guess. What was he like? You know, his personality.” Jim sounded for all the world like he didn’t have Erik’s leaking cock in his loose fist. All the potential energy of it crackled like electricity along Erik’s skin. God. He was already fully hard and practically vibrating with tension, and Jim hadn’t _really_ done anything to him yet.

“...” Jim’s question, or rather his ‘specifics’, merited some thought, though Erik’s silence seemed to be taken as yet another round of defiance. Defiance which Jim seemed more than happy to coax out of him with firm, leisurely strokes. How the hell could he explain Charles to anyone, let alone a non mutant? Let alone with Jim working his cock like that? The way his boss tightened his fist just so on every upstroke, sliding Erik’s foreskin over the swollen head of his cock before pushing languidly back down?

It was too much. And yet, not nearly enough.

That was a benefit of sex with Charles, his brain unhelpfully reminded him. There wasn’t the need for actual speaking involved in their coital conversations. But Jim was _Jim_. Not Charles. Just as mad, just as brilliant, just as ruthlessly domineering in bed, but definitely not Charles. Despite the eerie similarities.

Right.

Right? No matter what tricks his memory seemed content to pull on him, it was still in Erik’s best get to talking. Especially before Jim got impatient.

“He seemed like a nice, decent guy on the surface. Smart. Pretty forthright. But really? He was a controlling prick.” Innocuous enough, and still painfully true. That seemed to mollify Jim some, though Erik couldn’t tell if his dark eyes narrowed in consideration or well veiled anger, or if it was contemplation or frustration that pulled the corners of his lips into a disappointed little pout.

“I don’t know, Sebastian dear. You seem to get off on that.” Jim’s fingers loosened around his cock, the little bastard more than happy to prove his point. There wasn’t nearly enough pressure, enough friction, and Erik couldn’t help but writhe against the bed, hips bucking involuntarily upwards to chase after Jim’s teasing fingers as they slowly retreated. Noting the way Erik’s body moved, Jim withdrew his hand entirely, wagging one admonishing finger in Erik’s face.

“Ah-ah, handsome. _Details_. Don’t make me ask again.” Jim’s voice was still all tangled up in one of his thicker lilts, straight Dublin this time, with enough saccharine to get Erik to swallow all the cyanide down along with it. He cursed his own set of sexual preferences for the fact that Jim’s venom didn’t stop him from being so bloody addictive.

All Erik wanted was less talk and more fucking action, even with the smarmy little bastard smirking down into his face. Was it too much to ask? It defined his entire relationship with Charles as much as it did his sexual relationship with Jim. Talk about two high-and-mighty little shits that needed to stop fucking talking for once and actually get things **done**.

“ _Fuck_.” It was more of a breathless whine than the growled complaint that Erik meant to issue. The mere sound of it caused Jim to roll his eyes in a fashion so startlingly similar to Charles in one of his _moods_ that Erik’s breath caught in his throat.

They were far too bloody similar sometimes for his liking. And yet, something about the intense similarity, the sheer possessiveness in their eyes (one set of brilliant blue, one set of fathomless black) made a tight ball of heat curl up just below his navel and send tendrils of lust unfurling along the base of his spine anyway.

Pity it didn’t do anything to release any of the pressure building steadily in his abdomen, or the exquisite tautness that ran through his limbs. In fact, if anything, the similarity caused his lips to curl in retrospective appreciation. While his relationship with Xavier had always been far too tumultuous, their frequent disagreements certainly lead to some... incidents... not entirely dissimilar to what Jim had set up for them that very evening. The memory caused a slow, satisfied smile to crawl across his lips, one he didn’t (possibly _couldn’t_ ) stifle before Jim picked up on it with an agitated little growl.

“Oh. What was that, _Sebby_?” Jim spat out his assumed name like a curse. Erik tried to play innocent, raising one eyebrow in query, as if he didn’t perfectly understand Jim’s questioning accusation. Jim simply gave him a hard, heated stare and took his hands of his cock, completely glowering as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Don’t play dumb, it’s never attractive. That dirty little smirk of yours. What’s it about?”

“Hey. You were the one that brought up my ex in bed, not me.”

“Oh. Well.” Jim’s grin was Cheshire wide, all teeth and very little mirth, as he shifted his body so that he was straddling Erik’s shins instead of his thighs. He uncrossed his arms and laid his palms flat on either side of Erik’s legs to brace himself as he bent slightly at the waist. The motion brought Jim’s clever mouth directly parallel with his captive’s cock, a dark light dancing in his eyes as he leaned down so that the barest brushes of his warm breath brushed across the fat head of Erik’s prick as he all but moaned out his next command.

“If that’s the case, _Moran_ , you simply **have** to tell me more.” That voice was liquid sin, all filthy suggestion. What was it about the seemingly buttoned up, prim ones? At least in Erik’s experience they seemed (James and Charles, as either one could have given the other a run for their money in the ‘posh’ and ‘secretly filthy’ department) to be just full of hidden depravity. Well, that was as good a place to start with Jim’s requested details as any other.

“He was a class A pervert. And clever about it.” Jim rewarded the words leaning forward, finally bringing his soft lips into contact with Erik’s cock. Rewarding but still teasing, as Jim seemed fully content to place light, short little licks up Erik’s length. When no further descriptions followed, though, he stopped with an impatient sigh before he traced his tongue anywhere further upwards than the sensitive skin of his glans. In fact, Jim stopped abruptly, drawing his head back a few centimeters to arch one dark eyebrow at Erik, encouraging him to continue.

“Mmh. Ah! _Really_ clever.” Jim seemed interested, dark eyes flashing up at Sebastian as he let his fingers form a loose ring around the base of Sebastian’s prick. Not enough grip to cause any kind of crest to Erik’s pleasure; just enough to hold his cock steady as Jim leaned back down, flattened his tongue and ran it in excruciatingly slow circles around the swollen tip.

“A-Abnormally clever.” That seemed to satisfy Jim somewhat, and he took the whole of the head of Erik’s prick in his mouth, sucked for a few torturously short seconds before he stopped and started lathing it with his tongue. When Erik was positively shaking in his bonds and seriously debating tearing the screws out of their headboard to cut himself free, Jim pulled back and placed a line of light, almost chaste kisses from the weeping tip all the way back down to where his fingers were coiled the root of Erik’s prick.

“Mmm. See. You _can_ actually answer basic questions when properly motivated.” It didn’t help Erik’s frustration that Jim had pressed his lips to last little bit of exposed skin at the very base of his cock before he gave that appreciative little hum. The vibrations from his lips sent delicious little sparks skittering along Erik’s fraying nerves, equal parts unbearably hot and deliciously frustrating.

When Erik moaned a little and arched the small of his back to try and press his cock harder against those teasing lips, Jim simply withdrew and gave him an impatient, huffed “And what else?” while tightening his grip just slightly to punctuate his mounting frustration.

“Bit of a temper.”

“More.” Jim’s hot breath was on him again, his tongue occasionally dancing out from behind those smiling lips to trace a hot, wet tip up the vein on the underside of Erik’s cock.

“Mnh...” The groan of appreciation Erik issued rapidly dissolved into a yelp of pain as Jim’s fingers down and tightened around his balls, just enough to punctuate the idea that moaning wasn’t a coherent answer.

“Use your words, _Se~bas~tian_.”

“Ah! H-he was absolutely brilliant.” A bit more of the pressure on his balls let up; all the more motivation to try and wrestle his mind back from the pain-lust haze and his voice back from the breathless gasps it had fallen into. It wasn’t easy. Every nerve in his body was pulled taut. It felt like he could shatter at any second. But it was the only way to keep Jim going, so he bit his lip until the pain gave him a half second of clarity, and pushed through.

“E-exceptional.” Encouraged by the slight shift in Jim’s position, and the way that his fingertips released their hold on his bollocks and instead traveled lightly along the underside of his cock, Erik struggled to continue speaking. Words didn’t come easily. His brain felt stuffed to the brim with potential energy, tension, and light.

Everything felt too hot. Like he was going to combust at any minute if he didn’t get some sort of release. Jim seemed utterly indifferent to his suffering, and instead gave him a knowing little smirk that communicated ‘Go on’ better than actual words could have.

“Driven.” Again, it must have been step in the right direction because Jim lowered his mouth back down, lips still pulled tight in a satisfied smirk, and brushed them down the length of Erik’s cock while humming to himself the entire way. The vibrations caused sparks of blue to skitter down Erik’s spine, coalescing into a molten pool at the very base of his spine.

His skin felt too tight. All he could hear was the rush of his pulse in his ears. His entire awareness of existence narrowed down to the heady, dizzying feeling rushing through him and Jim’s proximity to his prick. He gasped, and Jim pulled back a handful of millimeters. Words came crashing out of Erik’s mouth before he could pull away any further.

“Visionary.” Instead of lips, it was tongue that returned to Erik’s cock. Jim flattened his tongue out and licked a long, wet, slow stripe up to the very tip. In response, Erik’s entire body trembled. He felt as if he was going to shake apart from the sheer tension and potential orgasm stored up inside him. Or possibly tear every piece of metal in the room from its moorings. But he himself was a compass needle, and Jim’s mouth was perfect magnetic north. Every bit of awareness Erik had gravitated flawlessly to that warm, wet smile.

Closer. He was so fucking close. But he had to get _closer_.

“Commanding.” Jim dragged the soft flesh of his lips to and fro against the weeping slit at the tip of his cock in a languid, sinful, all-too teasing dance, and Erik pressed forward. Literally and figuratively. Grasped desperately in his mind for more words even as his hips continued to press forward, nudging the head of his prick against Jim’s hot, teasing lips.

“And one _hell_ of a great fuck.”

That was obviously what Jim was looking for, because he was down the rest of Erik’s length in an instant, the tip of his cock hitting the back of Jim’s throat with enough force to wring a strangled cry from Erik’s throat. The increased pressure from the little bastard swallowing around it was enough to send a series of intense shudders through Erik’s entire body. Everything pulled taut, left him feeling equally on edge and wrung out to the point of shaking.

The teasing had been going on long enough that his prick was on the edge of becoming unbearably sensitive; each press of the back of Jim’s spongy palate against the tip of his cock as he pressed his mouth down was a symphony of conflicting pleasure and near-pain impulses. The combined effect had Erik completely lost in a tangled haze, his breath coming in harsh pants and frustrated growls as he grasped at words that just didn’t seem to materialize. Everything had narrowed down to the cresting feeling that was gathering inside him. Just another second or two longer and-- and--

Fortunately Jim saw fit to take ‘mercy’ on him, pulling back entirely off Erik’s cock to stare him straight in the eye. Erik groaned, a half broken sob comingled with a desperate growl, as Jim sat back on his haunches. Close. He’d been _so fucking close_. Jim appeared entirely unmoved by his suffering; his black gaze burned into Erik’s own blue grey eyes, challenging and all-too-fucking-pleased with himself.

“Shhh. You’re doing so well, _Sebby_. Do try to focus and push through, won’t you? I’m interested in this fellow. He sounds...”

“... Like a self righteous pain in the arse?” Sure, it was an immensely bad plan to snap at Jim when the man had him tied up, spun around, and on a fucking knife’s edge between satisfaction and pain. Hell if it wasn’t _fun_ , though.

“Oh ho.” Surprisingly, rather than giving Erik a few hours alone and bound up to cool off, as Erik Jim simply gave another one of those filthy, satisfied smirks of his. It looked even better than normal with the way his lips were wet and slightly swollen.

“And now your _true_ feelings come out, Sebastian.”

Erik just groaned again. This was too much. It had gone on for long. He’d been pushed harder and farther than he’d ever been pushed before and it was tearing him apart even as it was turning his insides to water. His brain felt perilously light, even though his bones and his cock felt brutally heavy.

He’d never been a man to beg. Not under any circumstances. Not even for Charles. But some barely functioning part of his brain recognized that this was perhaps the closest he’d ever been to breaking that rule.

“One more, Tiger. Just one more bit of information. For me?” And oh, the little shit had the nerve to phrase that last bit like a question. Like Erik had any fucking choice. Shaking. Panting. Pushed right up to the very edge of his tolerance. Desperate for more of Jim’s clever lips, his scathing and oh so dexterous tongue, put to far better applications than torturing him with reminders of, and questions about, his ex.

“I-I don’t think he’d ever been wrong a day in his life. At least, he certainly thought so.” The words came out in a rushed tumble, hardly intelligible, warped as they were by the rawness of his throat. His breath came in harsh pants. Focusing was almost beyond him. Everything in his abdomen was seconds, just the tiniest bit of stimulation, away from explosion. Completion.

And Jim _still_ wanted to fucking talk.

“Sounds like you have a _type_ , Sebastian.” Jim cocked his head to the side, eyes dark as he examined the lines of his captive’s face. Whatever he found there, it caused his mouth to break out into a terrible, fearsome little grin. Probably desperation. God knew that was the only thing Erik could feel, tangled up in his insides and pushed through his veins like some sort of terrible drug.

More. More. More. The words were practically repeated with every pulse of his heart, echoed in the jump and twitch of his cock as Jim’s saliva cooled and dried around it.

“Yeah. Surprised? I like doggedly persistent, too-smart rich bitches with more money than common sense and a tendency for devouring cock like they’re starved.” They came out of him in a breathless rush, but it did little to soften the impact of his words. It was probably too honest for their games. But the reminders of Charles combined with Jim’s interrogation techniques had pushed him right up to his snapping limit.

He didn’t even get the chance to regret his words. No matter how harshly spoken, they seemed to do it. Jim’s eyes, already wide and dark, went even darker as his pupils visibly dilated.

“Oh, you mean like _this_?” The only noise in the room was a whisper of wool against bare skin and the slight creaking of the mattress as Jim shifted position again, lowering himself back down on to Erik’s body and more importantly, aligning his mouth with Erik’s cock.

Erik moaned, long and loud and completely unrestrained as those teasing, too-talkative lips, finally opened up and admitted his aching prick to the warm, wet heat inside. And the way that Jim immediately started sucking him down in response, deep and hard to the edge of pain? Erik couldn’t tell if it was a painful reward or some sort of pleasurable punishment.

Then Jim’s long fingers moved up to his bollocks, rolling and teasing and fondling them just-so, and it was absolutely reward. Pure, unadulterated reward. There wasn’t much room to maneuver with his hands bound up and Jim’s body pinning down his lower half, but he didn’t need it. Didn’t need to thrust at all, because Jim was obviously more than happy to keep moving, pushing, swallowing, sucking.

The tension, already built to a breaking point, stretched even further. He was suspended between absolute bliss and hard-edged pain. Pushed right up to the cliff’s edge of his physical limits. Then Jim drew back, leaving only the head of his cock encased in the tight, wet vacuum of his mouth. And the little bastard hummed, positively _hummed_ around him, deep and rich and filthy and sinful and too. fucking. much.

It didn’t last more than a few exquisite seconds. Not after he’d been teased so brutally, for so long. Everything in Erik’s body drew up almost painfully tight, crested, and released in a push of endorphins that left him gasping and shaking and twisting in his bonds. It was all a haze after that. Whitewashed vision and white noise as his orgasm shook him to the very root of his soul. All he had was a vague awareness of Jim swallowing down his release and giving a final little self satisfied hum that actually shocked his too-sensitive nerves, his too-stimulated and rapidly softening cock.

Then, there was silence. Absolute and complete silence. Every muscle in his body felt like wet paper. Pliant. Useless.

It was bliss.

Of course, it couldn’t last long.

Jim shifted atop him, slithering his way up his body, and Erik jumped at the press of a wool clad thigh between his own. Fuck, he was _sensitive_. Jim simply slid against him again, pressing his own hard cock against the top of Erik’s thigh, and gave a raw sounding, throaty chortle.

“Mmm. That’s it. Good. Very good. But open up. It’s my turn now, love.” Though the rush of chemicals and blood singing in his brain, the words struck Erik’s consciousness quite deeply. Everything went from lovely and relaxed and post-coitally blissed out to immediate ‘Danger!’ instincts in the span of a single breath.

Because ‘love’? That sure as fuck wasn’t something Jim would say. Not even in jest. Not even as a tease. It was, however, Charles’ favored pet name for him. At least in bed.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, _fuck._

That was the problem with the metal plate. It protected him, sure. But not anyone else around him. Charles was... Charles had... with Jim. For months. _Months_. It retrospect it all seemed crystal clear. That accent he used when he was all worked up was way too ridiculous to be real.

“Hello, Charles.” It was an effort to sound as relaxed as he did, but there was really nothing else for it.

Jim’s expression didn’t change much, eyes still wide and pupils still dilated, but the smirk shifted from Jim’s cocky little grin to Xavier’s too-knowing smirk in a heartbeat.

“Hello, Erik. Miss me?”

“Apparently I never got the chance. You know, you’re not just taking a joyride in a regular bloke, Charles. Jim is... “

“A violent psychopath. Yes. I’m fully aware. We’re working on that. He’s a very fast learner, even if he’s somewhat resistant to my usual methods of persuasion.”  
  
“Still, the ethics of.. just... well... it’s a bit...” Erik struggled for the proper words. It was one thing to take a random passer by for a momentary spin to deliver a message, but this? The implication of what they’d been doing, what they’d been sharing? That was...

“Absolutely no cause for concern, I assure you.” Erik could practically read Charles in those black eyes as they gave an exasperated roll. “Really now. We came to a good arrangement before either one of us ever laid his hands on you. I get to ‘borrow’ him for a bit. He gets to watch. And experience.”

Jim’s, no Charles’, expression hadn’t changed one whit. Still dark. Still hungry. Still far too self-satisfied. “But _I_ get to drive.” A gentle push of Jim’s body up against Erik’s punctuated the statement. The feel of Jim’s cock pressing along his thigh, with the knowledge that it was Charles, his Charles, in control? If he’d been capable of getting it up again so soon after orgasm, the combination would have been enough to draw him to rock-hard attention in an instant.

“He’s a fantastic voyeur, that boss of yours. A bit mad, but you always did like playing with danger, didn’t you Erik?”

Hearing his name from Jim’s tongue was almost too much. It was only the fact that, despite the difference in faces, he could positively see Charles staring out at him from those wide, dark eyes, that kept him from completely panicking.

“Pity the experience seems to wear him out. I do so miss our post coital chats. And utterly ravaging you at chess. Fortunately I don’t have to miss ravaging you in other ways.”

“I can’t _believe_ you.”

“Yes you can.”

“Yeah. I guess I can.”

“But needs do as needs must.” Charles shifted Jim’s body again, and gave Erik an affectionate pat on the cheek before running the pad of his thumb over his lips. He pressed the digit in, just slightly, enough to scrape the edge of his nail across the very tip of Erik’s tongue.

“Our darling Jim doesn’t have a whole lot of stamina left. You’d best get to, or he’s going to be terribly sore with you when he wakes up. And you really don’t look like you’re in a state to be dealing with him in a fit of enraged sexual frustration without me to... mitigate things.”

It was Jim’s voice, albeit without that saccharine Dublin lilt, modulated to Charles’ perfect enunciation and modulated tone. God. Of course that it had been Charles all along. He should have known. The man never could fake an accent, not to save his life.

And it was Jim’s body, shifting against him and raising up. Jim’s fingers, dancing along the dark wool of his suit trousers, opening them up just enough to free his own leaking cock. But it was Charles’ intention, Charles’ filthy, too-knowing smirk that stared down at him. It was Charles that pressed forward, and gave him a filthy grin while directing him to “Open up.”

Still. Jim’s body, Jim’s voice, Jim’s.... voyeuristic tendencies... but Charles’ presence. Heavy atop him. Pressing him into the mattress even as he straddled his head and nudged the tip of Jim’s cock up against his lips.  It was the strangest threesome he’d ever been in. But, he realized, as he relaxed his throat to admit the head of Jim’s prick (even if it was Charles driving), it was very fucking unlikely he was even going to be given any room to complain.

Not, mind you, that he'd ever _really_  felt like complaining.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Loved it? Blame Taylor. Hate it? Blame Taylor. Seriously. I take no responsibility for this whatsoever.
> 
> This trainwreck was unbetaed so if you see something that could use correction please feel free to let me know! <3


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